


Plans

by themantlingdark



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: For bundtfuck's Thorki-prompt:"Thor wants to propose to Loki and Loki needs to tell Thor he’s pregnant and keep coming up with ways to do so that inadvertently throw off the other’s plans and it takes forever for them to finally do it because they each want their moments to be perfect"I feel like a strayed a bit in that Loki inadvertently undoes /both/ his plans and Thor's... but lbr, that's kind of how Loki rolls.





	Plans

  
  


Thor is going to ask tonight.

They haven't had a real fight in over a century. They've taken to bickering about minutiae as old married couples do, and Asgard has grown accustomed to the pair of them.

Thor is finally confident that the boat won't rock.

He'll fly them to their favorite river, walk his brother out onto the stepping stones that rest in the center of the stream, kiss him, and ask for his hand.

The moons will be slightly overlapping tonight - like they're kissing - and Loki will say that it looks like a big glowing arse in the sky. And Thor will laugh. Perhaps they'll strip and take a swim. And then there will be a celebration of some sort, almost certainly - the kind with skin and sighs and laughter if the last century is anything to go by.

When Thor gets to Loki's room, he finds his brother passed out on the rug. The bed is covered in countless fabric samples: soft silks and flannels in colors that are bright and cheerful with whimsical patterns dyed into them.

“Loki?” Thor calls, softly, but he gets no answer.

Loki doesn't even stir when Thor scoops him up off the floor and carries him into his own bed to sleep.

Tomorrow night, then, Thor decides. The moons will be kissing even more deeply.

But the following night, Thor finds Loki face down at his desk before a stack of books with a scroll curling up around his head. There are at least a thousand names written on it in tidy columns with Loki's lovely script.

Thor hopes this isn't some intricate spell he's interrupting... or the beginnings of a hit-list.

Thor puts his brother to bed again and decides to make his next attempt closer to sunrise.

When Loki wakes at nine the following morning, his brother is bright eyed and smiling, waiting for him at their small dining table. It's covered in Loki's favorite foods, and Loki knows Thor has been busy because some of these fruits only grow on Alfheim and Vanaheim.

Loki's first bite flips some switch in his core.

Turns off his already-meager restraint.

His manners, too.

He clears all the plates without pausing for air while his brother watches wide-eyed, hands hovering by a bottle of wine and two goblets.

“No wine,” Loki says, wrinkling his nose, and then he muscles Thor over to the bed where he fucks Thor's plump pink rump until Thor is sobbing and babbling in some ecstatic delirium.

Loki nods off on top of his brother after they both spill.

Thor lies there with his own semen dripping down his sides and his brother's cock going soft in his ass, listening as Loki snores into his shoulder.

Out the window, the moons look like a pale pumpkin against the soft morning sky. For the next few nights, the farthest one will be largely hidden by the near one, and they'll be rather unremarkable.

Loki can't seem to keep his eyes open.

Thor will try speaking to his brother at midday tomorrow, as Loki looks likely to sleep through it today.

The appointed hour arrives and Loki finds Thor at the far end of the north garden, looking handsome and nervous. The sun is reflecting off of his hair and crowning him with light.

Loki smiles at the sight.

The heart of the brightest being in the nine realms belongs to him. Sometimes he almost forgets. But practice will make perfect.

Mine, he reminds himself, and he stands a little straighter and swings his legs a bit farther with every stride as he makes his way across the carefully manicured grass between the meticulous rows of blossoms.

Thor sent a page bearing a little folded note asking Loki to meet him here at noon.

And This will work, Loki thinks. In fact, it's perfect. Perhaps Thor already knows and called me to this pretty place so that the sweet sights and scents would unspool my tongue and spill my secret.

The birds are singing unseen where they nest in rose hedges. Butterflies stutter through the air on painted wings.

Thor waits by a bench between two beautifully carved granite pots that bed gardenias.

The sun in Loki's eyes makes him sneeze, and he huffs at himself. He can hear Thor's low laughter answering.

The day is warm. Loki can feel sweat starting on his skin everywhere at once, but heaviest at the base of his back.

Thor motions to the bench when Loki arrives and they sit, turned toward each other.

Thor takes Loki's hand and stares at it.

Loki watches his brother's face. His lips are poised for speech and his lungs are full. His brow is slightly furrowed beneath the wisps of blond blown across it by the breeze.

Loki can smell the gardenias. The scent so rich. An aromatic orgy. Like tangled sheets, plush cushions, and flushed skin. Like those months they spent on Alfheim making love by a window wreathed in vines of jasmine. Not leaving their room. Losing track of time altogether.

That's how they landed here with Loki pregnant. The days on that realm are not the same length as they are on Asgard, and time passes swiftly when you're flitting back and forth between orgasm and exhaustion. They thought it had been one month. But it had been two.

Still, Loki supposes. It was only a matter of time. You can't fuck a fertility god for centuries and expect to walk away from it in one piece. You'll be in two at least. And twins are always an option.

Loki just can't find the right words.

It's easier when he's lying. Lies are imperfect by nature, so the words can be crafted almost carelessly. They often seem more truthful when they're simple and indifferent.

But Loki finds this truth unwieldy. Too vast for him alone. It will be easier to bear when Thor knows it, too, and the weight can be borne by both of them.

Speech feels hollow and cheap. Weightless.

Loki looked for other ways.

He compiled lists of lovely names, intending to ask Thor which he liked and then let Thor's mind puzzle out why a preference was necessary.

At first he had thought he could give Thor a tiny tunic in pretty pastels. Baby clothes. The meaning unmistakable.

But the certainty of the fabric felt frightening to Loki. Like counting your chickens before they've hatched. Baiting the Norns. This could still go wrong, which makes half of Loki want to keep it a secret - to spare Thor the pain if things don't work out. But the other half of Loki knows he'll need Thor to help him through it if it comes to that, so he has to tell Thor everything.

It all leaves his head spinning.

Loki feels like he's sweating on the inside. Like he can feel the contours of every organ in his belly.

And the gardenias are suffocating him. The scent keeps getting thicker. Closing his throat. That sickly sweet stink of indole at the core of the flower's perfume won't leave him alone. Like a wasp at a picnic, making you regret bringing cake. Consuming all your thoughts.

“I know I never want to be without y-” Thor begins, but Loki launches himself onto the lawn, landing on his hands and knees and retching into the grass.

“Are you ill?” Thor gasps, and Loki heaves again, eyes leaking and arms shaking as chartreuse foam dribbles from his lips.

“Shall I take you to the healers?” Thor asks, crouching before his brother and putting a cool hand on Loki's cheek.

“Eir,” Loki whispers. “Only Eir.”

Thor flies his brother there as carefully as he can, using the wind more than Mjolnir, as it's slower and they can remain more upright.

Eir ushers Loki in and shuts the low oak door in Thor's face.

Thor opens it again, bewildered, only to feel Eir's long fingers gripping his jaw and backing him out of the room as though he's an unruly horse.

“What are you doing?” Thor asks. “Loki is ill. Why are you not tending to him?”

“He is well. I see he still needs privacy,” she answers, and Thor looks at her like she's mad.

“He broke a sweat crossing a garden and then threw up a pint of bile,” Thor barks, pushing off of the wall and heading for the door.

But Eir grabs him by the hair and yanks him straight down onto his ass before lightly stepping around him and making her way to the room.

Thor thrusts his foot in the door before she can shut it.

“Why are you keeping him from me? He's my-”

“But he isn't yours, is he?” Eir interrupts. “Not really. Not yet.”

Thor's eyes go wide.

Eir kicks his foot out of the way and shuts the door. Thor hears the bolt turn. He scoffs.

The healer is as hard as Odin.

Harder, Thor decides.

Odin made the wars, but Eir mended the warriors, and there are always far more wounded than dead. And the dead don't bleed or scream.

Thor wonders if his mother liked Odin because he reminded her of Eir. Frigga knew Eir centuries before she met the Allfather. And he wonders if Eir and Odin loved Frigga because she was nearly nothing like them. The willow still standing as their steel crumbled to rust.

Thor sulks in the hall while he waits for his brother.

“Morning sickness,” Eir sighs. “And I did warn you.”

“But it isn't morning,” Loki gripes.

“What time did you wake?”

“Eight,” Loki says, and Eir raises an eyebrow. “Ish,” Loki amends, and Eir cocks her head. “Oh, bollocks to you. Fine. A quarter to noon when Thor's page woke me.”

Eir snorts and Loki is fairly certain he hears the word idiot come from somewhere beneath her breath.

She gives him herbs to make into tea and drink before bed and again upon waking.

“Stay out of the sun,” she chides. “And avoid the heat as well. Go to the mountains. The snow will do you good.”

Loki frowns, but nods.

Eir finds Thor standing before the door when she opens it again. Tall and grim. And she thinks, perhaps, if she hadn't known him since he was a boy and if he didn't look so like his mother, she might flinch.

His eyes are glowing faintly. The sky has darkened and the clouds are groaning. Thor's cloak moves in the breeze though his body is still.

Eir huffs and Loki slips out behind her.

“I'm all right,” Loki soothes. “Calm down. I need to go up into the mountains where it's cooler.”

Thor nods once and offers his arm.

“You're so fetching when you're cross,” Loki teases, jostling his brother and leading him back to their rooms as the sky withdraws and the wind blows away.

Thor buys an old cabin from a family of trappers who live on the lower slopes of a mountain. The place is sheltered by pines, so the sun can't sneak in. He and Volstagg fix it up as best they can, but they don't worry too much, as Loki will change what he doesn't like with seidr anyway.

Thor flies his brother up to the foothills to convalesce.

Loki seems to brighten instantly.

He strides off with a bow and spends the day hunting geese while Thor makes their bed, chops firewood, and carries water.

Thor can see Loki through the window, plucking the birds with an explosion of seidr that sends feathers flying everywhere before they converge and land, neatly and impossibly, within small cotton sacks sorted by size. Thor suspects their cabin will be overrun with goose down pillows within the month.

Loki's steps are loose and light as he makes his way to the door, and Thor notices that his brother isn't wearing any shoes.

Loki has the birds in a roasting pan and hanging over the hearth before Thor can even say hello.

And then Loki has Thor on his back in bed with his shirt rucked up and his nipples caught between nimble fingers.

Thor cups Loki's backside and politely wiggles his lips out of the path of Loki's kisses.

“Eir said you're not ill.”

“Not ill,” Loki confirms.

“Has the heat always bothered you?”

“No.”

“Did she say how long you should stay here?”

“She's looking into it.”

Thor frowns at this. Loki wrestles his brother into proper kisses and then breaks them when he hears his geese sizzling.

Loki has eaten three breasts before Thor has finished one.

It's usually the other way around.

It goes the same way with the thighs.

Then the drumsticks.

Loki even eats all the wings.

Then he asks Thor to fly to the palace kitchens to fetch him bread and butter.

Outside, Thor sees the trail of blood from the geese, bright red on the white snow beside his brother's footprints.

And he remembers Loki's menses.

They should have started a month ago.

Thor feels like a simpleton as he stumbles through the kitchens in a giddy daze.

He grabs bread and butter and then adds a plate of sweets, which Loki will pretend not to want and then eat while Thor isn't looking.

Thor stops in his bedroom to retrieve a small loop of golden rope.

When he arrives at the cabin, Thor notes that Loki has eaten the crispy bits of goose skin and is already making broth with the bones.

The offered bread is swiped through the butter and stuffed into Loki's mouth with a pleased hum.

Thor leans back in the chair beside his brother's seat and stares at the embers that flicker in the hearth. Thor's toes are warmed by the fire, but he can see his breath in front of his face when he tips his head back.

Loki's leggings are in a heap by his feet and his tunic is unlaced. The hollow of his throat is shining slightly.

“It's cooler in bed,” Thor says.

Loki nods and stands, stretching up to his full height and thrusting his ribs out in front of him while he groans. Thor cracks a window to let the crisp mountain air into the room.

Loki collapses onto the bed with a grunt, feet dangling off the edge and backside exposed.

Thor tickles Loki's feet and gives his bottom an appreciative fondling before pausing to get undressed. Loki sees Thor bend to retrieve something from the pocket of his leggings and he rolls onto his side to learn what Thor brought him.

Loki sits bolt upright when Thor reveals the rope, held out on the palms of both hands.

He offers his wrist without a word.

Thor wraps the loop around it, twists it once, and slides the other end of the figure-eight over his own fist, binding their limbs.

“Will you have me?”

“Aye,” Loki whispers. “And will you have me?”

“Yes,” Thor smiles, and threads his fingers through his brother's.

Loki holds his breath until the loop dissolves into their skin.

He had long worried that the rope would refuse him somehow. Find him unworthy. And he had always feared that there would be a crowd there to see it. That the whole realm would watch him fail.

But the seidr is sound and there is only Thor, kissing Loki's knuckles and crying softly.

“When will the baby come?” Thor asks, voice thick.

“Not sure,” Loki admits, smiling in his relief. “It's fifteen months on Jotunheim and nine here. Eir isn't certain if it will be one, the other, or something in between. She's scouring history books for hints.”

Thor hums and huddles down into the bed, pulling Loki with him and tugging him close.

“Does it hurt?” Thor asks, quietly, body tense.

“No,” Loki soothes, and Thor sags against him. “Eir fixed the morning sickness with herbs and cold air. That leaves lust and gluttony for the time being,” Loki purrs. “And I quite like those symptoms.”

Thor hums his agreement and laughs into Loki's shoulder while Loki shifts and squirms until he's gliding the slick folds of his quim along the base of Thor's cock, feeling it lengthen and thicken against him with every pass of his hips.

Thor reaches down between them and pulls his foreskin back before painting the folds of Loki's cunny with the sticky liquid leaking from the silky head of his prick.

Loki lifts his left leg higher to welcome it, panting as the strokes go on and begin to grow faster. There's something akin to a clitoris at the base of Loki's cock where the skin splits into a quim and the testes are held in fat lips. Thor tickles it until Loki is twitching against him, gasping out breathy moans and then going limp. Loki can go over and over for hours like this, and Thor is always up for it, but lately Loki only has the patience for one release before he wants to feel Thor's cock thrust up inside him, spreading the slick walls of his cunt and filling him up with thick glistening sex. Pinning him to his brother's body like a butterfly to a board. Letting the pulse of Thor's blood undulate against the edge of his pussy where it's stretched wide by the base of Thor's prick. Feeling the fur on Thor's balls brushing his anus. Feeling Thor's breast rising and falling against his own, stuttering when he clenches his cunny to squeeze Thor's cock, making Thor thrust helplessly.

Seeing Thor's lashes flutter is Loki's favorite part. And stealing the breath from the god of sex makes Loki feel wonderfully smug.

“Bit early in this bout to be gloating, isn't it?” Thor murmurs, taking in the glaze on his brother's eyes and the smirk twisting his lips.

“One to nothing,” Loki taunts, and Thor grins and starts swinging his hips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't disable commenting. If I could, I would. Please pretend that I have.


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